Chapter 1664: Divine Calamity

The man stood tall, gazing intently at the two armies before him. His eyes shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light—almost as if they could reflect not just the souls of every being nearby, but the very essence of the entire continent. Silence cloaked the area like a thick fog, and he didn’t utter a single word for what felt like an eternity. Then, at last, he opened his mouth.

“I am Divine Calamity Omega Lord. Bow now—or be destroyed.”

His voice roared across the skies like thunder tearing through the heavens. The earth trembled beneath the weight of his words, the sheer power resonating like the eruption of ancient volcanoes and the catastrophic shattering of the land itself. It wasn’t merely loud; it was a force—a divine decree that crushed reality with its intensity.

The effect on the crowd was instant and cataclysmic, particularly among the life forms of the Third Realm. Although none of them recognized the man’s appearance, all of them knew the name and title. Even Cain found himself involuntarily clenching his fists.

Thanks to the memories he had stolen from Sorcerer and Marlin, Cain knew what the title “Omega Lord” truly signified. It wasn’t just ceremonial or symbolic. No—an Omega Lord was an ArchDeity, a being who stood at the very summit of existence itself.

And Divine Calamity? That was not just a moniker. It was the name of the creator and ruler of the Divine Calamity Heaven, an Omega Lord Tier Organization. This wasn’t some petty sect or regional kingdom. No, this was a divine empire that dominated not only one continent but three—including the Everlife Continent.

Within the Divine Calamity Heaven’s vast domain were many factions—mighty organizations such as the Gu Sect, the Golden Star Kingdom, and the Eclipse School. These powerful forces might have seemed irreconcilable, constantly embroiled in conflict, yet they all answered to the same supreme authority, Divine Calamity.

That Omega Lord force rarely interfered in the struggles between organizations. Internal wars, alliances, betrayals—it was all permitted, so long as the tithe was paid every century. But when Divine Calamity himself descended, his words became absolute law.

As though compelled by an unseen force, everyone bowed their heads. Every cultivator, all lowered themselves in complete deference to the being before them.

Even the haughty Golden Star Crown Prince, whose arrogance knew no bounds, did not show an ounce of resistance. He knew very well what kind of entity stood before them: a being capable of sinking entire continents into an ocean of oblivion.

Divine Calamity observed the mass of bowing figures as if it were the most natural sight in the universe. Yet, his eyes halted when they landed on one lone figure who had not bowed.

Cain stood upright.

Blood trickled from his face. His stance wasn’t rebellious, but calm—resolute. A gentle, almost serene smile formed on his lips.

Then, without a word, Cain bent forward and performed a bow so deep that it surpassed everyone else’s. He brought his head down with such sincerity that a flicker of surprise crossed the Divine Calamity’s eyes—a spark of curiosity.

For a brief moment, the ArchDeity had anticipated resistance. Cain, after all, was no ordinary youth. He had risen through the ranks at a speed others couldn’t even dream of. Yet, he had chosen to bow like everyone else. Or rather, deeper than all others.

Cain could feel the divine gaze weighing on him. The ArchDeity’s interest was palpable. But he remained composed, knowing full well that any hint of defiance would be foolish. The truth was brutally simple—he could not face this man. Not even perceive his movement. Against such a being, resistance wasn’t just futile; it was suicide.

That wasn’t to say Cain was completely without options. He still had one final recourse—the Crimson World. But that was a last resort as it would mean abandoning both body and soul. He could, perhaps, reclaim his strength over time, even reconstruct his Alter-Ego. But the Primordial Inheritance would be lost forever.

The ArchDeity’s gaze lingered for a few more seconds before drifting away. Whatever curiosity he had toward Cain had faded for now.

Then, without giving permission to raise their heads, Divine Calamity continued speaking.

“The conflicts between Lord-Tier organizations within the domains of the Divine Calamity Heaven are henceforth forbidden. All of you must rally your forces. Strengthen your armies. Prepare for the Omega War.”

His words rippled through the souls of every cultivator present. The Soul Realm experts exchanged confused and uneasy glances. “Omega War”—a phrase that carried an ominous, thunderous weight—but none of them truly understood what it entailed.

Except for the Third Realm Masters.

Pation, Lancer, Karter, Makiela, and even the Golden Star Crown Prince revealed solemn expressions. They knew. An Omega War meant a conflict not just between continents, but between Omega Lord Tier organizations.

It could very well span over half a dozen continents. It meant battles that would shake reality, where even ArchDeities would clash. It was a war where the death of Prima Deities was not rare, but expected—an event so cataclysmic it could stretch on for centuries, millennia even.

The hopes and fears of those beneath him—no matter their strength—meant nothing to Divine Calamity. He had given an order. They would obey. Or they would be obliterated. It was that simple.

“In two hundred and twenty-seven days,” he proclaimed, “you will gather the full might of your organizations and converge at the Sea of Misfortune.”

With those final words, the Divine Calamity turned around. He took a single step forward—and vanished from sight. Not even spatial ripples remained to mark his departure.

Yet the people stayed bowed, frozen in reverent silence, as if his presence still lingered in the air. Only after long moments passed did they cautiously lift their heads, confirming that the ArchDeity was truly gone.

Pation, Lancer, and Karter exchanged heavy glances. The burden laid upon their shoulders was suffocating, and all three found themselves looking toward Cain.

He was still bowing.

To them, it seemed like he had yet to recover from the shocking reversal of fate. Moments ago, Cain had stood as an embodiment of power and authority, yet now he had been forced to humble himself like the rest.

But the truth was far simpler—and far more dangerous.

Cain kept his head down, not out of shame, but to hide the overwhelming smile spreading across his face. His lips trembled with barely contained excitement. His blood boiled not from fear, but anticipation.